


Licorice Fro-Yo

by CookieCatSU



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Gyro and Beaks have a hate hate relationship, It grows, Louie's a bad wingman, M/M, Rivalry, Scrooge is a parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: Licorice is an acquired taste, Gyro must admit. So is Mark Beaks, though.
Relationships: Mark Beaks/Gyro Gearloose
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	Licorice Fro-Yo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KermitHimself](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=KermitHimself).



> Sorry this took so long to complete. It took me awhile to string together a cohesive plot, but it's finally done!

Scrooge McDuck is a ridiculous employer, he really is, but the generous paycheck he sticks under Gyro's door once a month pays the bills, so he puts up with him. 

Him, and his rowdy, obnoxious great-nephews.

"What did I say about bothering Dr. Gearloose?"

Louie rolls his eyes. "Not to"

"Right, me boy" Scrooge nods in satisfaction, then turns to the disgruntled chicken, still standing in the corner of the laboratory, "Think you can watch these three for a few hours, sonny?"

Gyro's lip curls, and he turns his head away with a scoff, "Not as if I have much of a choice, do I?"

Scrooge McDuck glares at Gearloose, in that disappointed sort of way that made most quake in their boots, and Gyro does falter, but not by much. Gyro wasn't going to let the old man guilt him into being nice, or liking the current circumstances, even if he seems to have mastered the technique.

"Don't give me that tone, young man" Scrooge replies.

Gyro doesn't argue too much, when Scrooge finally does leave him with the three little brats.

The green one had always been the worst of the three. 

The blue one got bored quick, and usually wandered off on his own. All Gyro had to do was start explaining any scientific principle, and within minutes the little duckling threw his hands up and marched off. Or fell asleep. The red one kept his face pressed into his book, when he wasn't studying Lil Bulb or admiring the other tech, and while he was annoying, he managed to stay from under foot, and he had the courtesy not to touch anything.

Not the green triplet. He liked to follow Gyro around.

"What's this uh doohickey here do?" Louie asks, with a hum, turning the device around in his hand.

Gyro huffs, "I _said don't touch_ anything"

He snatches it out of his hand, dropping it back on his desk. A couple of the led lights on the handle flash and flicker, but Gyro doesn't notice.

Louie's glaring at him, hands stuffed in his pockets, scowl stamped on his little downy face. Gyro scowls right back at him, and sends him to sit in the corner with the blue one.

"But-"

"Sit" Gyro snaps, hand flying up to massage his temple. It's been thirty minutes, and he feels like his head may explode.

"But I wanna move-"

"Sit. Sit. Sit. Or I will throw you out that window!" 

"What happened to bein' the bigger person?" Louie mutters under his breath.

"What happened to keeping our hands to ourselves" Huey whispers in response.

* * *

Mark Beaks is a piece of garbage. A self centered piece of billionaire garbage. So certainly not Gyro's preferred type of garbage.

He'd rather not have anything to do with him, honestly.

So he's pretty annoyed when he runs into him during his daily coffee run. Gyro's relatively relaxed, with his hot cup of coffee in his hand, warm and wafting and strong black, until he hears that grating voice just behind him.

"Gyro, my man. What a pleasant surprise, running into you! I thought you were busy with that uh, that AI project of yours"

Ah, yes. The one he so shamelessly stole.

Dr. Gearloose's shoulders tighten, and his hand hovers frozen, brushing just over the coffee stirs. He doesn't turn to look at him, but he grits his teeth.

The nerve of that little...

"Don't mess with me, you shallow hack. I am _not_ in the mood"

"What's wrong, pal" Beaks laughs, taking a mighty long sip of his own coffee, "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?"

No.

Gyro woke up the same way he always does; half curled on the pull out couch he'd snuck into the lab's break room, back aching and with a crick in his neck, and with such a nasty bite to his tongue he could lash a horse into shape. He'd happened to wake up nearly at dawn today, had stumbled to his car with legs like jelly and a brain so addled with exhaustion the only remedy was a triple shot espresso drenched in caffeine.

He needed a break, just a short moment of reprieve. Talking to Mark Beaks was not included, obviously.

Gyro glares menacingly at him, as if daring him to let another sound slip past that silly beak of his. "I am not safe for consumption before my first cup of coffee. I **_will_ ** strangle you. So shut up"

Beaks ignores him, instead moving to stand next to him at the counter, which was sticky with cream and various sweetners (apparently the 'baristas' here were too dumb to count two sugars as opposed to four, so one had to do it themselves). His gray feathers glisten in the bright incandescent light above, almost violet in complexion. It catches Gyro's eye, like cheap foil attracts a magpie.

"Is that real sugar, bro? I expected better from you" Beaks smirks. It too seems to shine, dull and cheap and stupid, in the overly bright, headache inducing light.

Gyro has never wanted to punch someone in the face more.

* * *

"Who's calling you?" Louie asks, scrambling up his shoulder before he can properly protest, or bat him off. Gyro hisses in irritation, but ultimately let's the little gremlin do whatever he pleases. That's what he would do, regardless, anyway, so why make a fuss? It was futile.

"You got caller ID?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Gyro huffs, "And I don't know yet. I didn't even get a _chance to look_ before you interrupted me, you little green brat"

"How nice! You've got nicknames now. That mean I can call you Professor Gadget now?"

"Hel- heck no" Gyro snaps.

"Kay, Gadget" Louie's eyes get big, then, and he snatches Gyro's clunky little cell phone out of his hand with a gasp, "Woah, is that Mark Beaks?" He exclaims, and he's already flipped the little keyboard out, slamming keys with his round little duckling fingers.

Gyro snatches the phone right back, ignoring Louie's complaints.

"Let me see that!" Gyro's eyes widen, "Sh*t, it is Mark Beaks. F*ck"

It takes about three seconds, for him to reign in his irritation, for him to decide not to smash his phone all over the dock. He growls faintly, instead. "What the hell does this third rate poser piece of garbage want?"

"I can find out for ya" Louie grins, "You know, for a price"

Dr. Gearloose stows the phone back in his pocket with a scoff. "Thanks, but no. I'm a fully functioning adult, who requires no help from a six year old"

"I'm 12, man!"

* * *

"What do you want?" Gyro growls.

"I called you here to discuss figures"

"You called me to discuss confidential business at... TC's Froyo Shop?" Gyro's eyes narrow, and he moves a little closer to the table (table for two, tut tut, very suspicious), but makes no move to sit down, still hovering just behind the chair instead, thrumming with distrust.

"Nuh-uh. I call BS. Even if your intellect pales in comparison to mine, you're still way smarter than that, Beaks"

Mark throws his hands up, almost in acquiesce, yellow-rimmed eyes twinkling, "You got me! I knew you'd figure it out, amigo!"

Gyro jolts a little, softens a little around the edges at the sound of being right (Gyro was always right, but Beaks admitting it was truly once in a blue moon).

"Now that we've established that's a ploy, why are you really here?"

Mark moves to pull out Gyro's chair, harried and a bit overeager. Gyro blinks in utter astonishment, totally caught off guard.

"The he-"

"I just wanted to talk, bud. Go ahead, sit down"

Gyro does as asked, though he's still glaring at Beaks- searching for the trick, because this is Beaks. There's always a trick. He wants something, like trade secrets or a sneak peek at the schematics for Gyro's newest prototype.

"What do you like? Vanilla? Strawberry Blitz? You look like a Strawberry Blitz guy to me"

Gyro stares at him, dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?"

"Frozen yogurt, duh. What else?" Beaks shrugs, as if it's common sense. Gyro very much wants to strangle him with that stupid gray hoodie of his.

"Licorice. I prefer Licorice, though Strawberry whatever you just said, is fine and dandy"

Beaks brow furrows, and then he grins, and laughs. "Sweet. Let's get you some Licorice!"

* * *

Gyro is distracted, during that week's board meeting, or at least more distracted than usual. His knee is jumping under the table, and his fingers drum against the wood, and he looks frustrated. It's not the usual irritation, that comes from being forced to listen to cutthroat capitalists scrap and argue over pennies, though; Scrooge knows that look, and this is not it.

He knows Gyro isn't even listening, when one of his Board members mentions the inefficiency of the science department, and Gyro jolts as if rudely awakened, but has no comment. He isn't angry, or indignant, isn't ready to rally tooth and nail about how ingenious his inventions are. 

Scrooge is the only one to come to the lad's defense, and that's answer enough.

"Something's bothering you, lad" Scrooge says, once they've filed out of the conference room, and he's managed to pull the inventor to the side, alone. It isn't a question, more of an offer, extended outward.

"How could you tell?" Gyro counters, a non-answer to his non-question.

"I know you"

Gyro nods at that. "It's Mark Beaks. I'm certain he wants something from me"

Scrooge clicks his tongue, in cadence to the clack of his cane against the Bin's linoleum coated floors, "I never did like the cut of that boy's jib. Had everything handed to him, that one" Scrooge shakes his head, gestures _strongly_ with his freehand. "Mm-hmm. Like most people who never had to work a day in their life, you can't trust him worth a nickel!"

"While all of those observations are absolutely true, that's not what I'm talking about. He's been very nice to me lately. Overly nice"

Scrooge arches a brow, but says nothing, clearly waiting for Gyro to explain more. Dr. Gearloose does so gladly.

"He's been inviting me to meet at coffee shops and restaurants. He also must've read my employee file, because he knew my favorite meal was gyros" He shrugs nonchalantly, pulling at his bowtie, "I think he's trying to bribe me. Or pump me for info"

Scrooge hums knowingly. He's smiling, like he knows something, all faux wisdom and smug satisfaction. "I've personally never had a business rival take me to dinner"

Gyro scowls at that. That's not right. "He's more than a business rival, Mr. McDuck"

"Really, lad?"

"He's the bane of my existence" 

* * *

Gyro's been playing babysitter a lot recently. Mr. McDuck has been very busy, along with the rest of the family, dealing with Della's literal crashlanding back to Earth.

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, Gyro actually took watching the green triplet upon himself... but to be fair, both of them have felt rather uprooted and put out, following Della's sudden return… and Gyro knew what it felt like to be the odd man out, just like he knew what it felt like to be hated (he'd call it rust, and bad oil and licorice gum moldering for a decade).

The point is, he took pity on Louie, and now he's regretting it, because they're wandering around a carnival, and Gyro is down ten dollars over a silly bear clutched in the duckling's overextended arms, _and_ the term 'mind your own business' apparently doesn't have any meaning anymore.

"You've got a crush on Mark Beaks! No way!" Louie grins up at him, like the cat who got the cream.

Gyro sniffs in disdain, turning his beak up. "Don't be ridiculous. I do not"

"Uh, _yeah,_ you do"

"No, I don't. First of all, I do not fall victim to things as silly as crushes. Secondly, I would never develop feelings even akin to friendship for such a moron"

Louie just laughs, and says in a knowing, sing-song tone, "Your mouth says ya hate him, but your face says you looove him"

"How can my face 'say' anything?" Gyro snaps. He eyes one of the carnival games. It's a ring toss something or other, surely rigged, but hopefully a good distraction.

"It goes all gooey" Louie replies simply.

Gyro groans. "Gooey?"

"Yeah, gooey, lovey dovey, whatever" Louie shrugs, "Trust me, I know. It's just like the way Uncle Scrooge looks at O' Gilt"

"No, it's not" Gyro snaps.

Louie shrugs again, totally careless. "Okay. Whatever you say" He hums, smacking his lips, "Can we get some cotton candy?" 

And he turns on his heel and walks off.

* * *

Gyro first meets Mark Beaks on a Subway car to St. Canard's southern district. They have a riveting, intellectually stimulating conversation about theoretical physics. Then they part ways, and Beaks steals Gyro's blueprints like the sticky fingered miscreant he'd come to learn he's always been.

The next time they meet is a few months later. Beaks comes to that Gala for the express purpose of picking Gyro's brain for any useful scrap of info, but hides it behind a charming smile and inane small talk.

By the third incident, Gyro's learned the pattern.

That doesn't stop Mark from stealing his prototype right from under him (he slaps on a Waddle sticker and calls it his own, and Gyro is fuming angry for weeks).

Gyro scowls, as he looks up from the motherboard in his hands. It's unbelievably complex, unbelievably thoughtful… It's Mark's work, entirely original and painstakingly crafted, and made just for him, just for Gearloose… his eyes water, just a little, overwhelmed by something almost akin to appreciation. He sighs, softly.

He gently brushes his finger against one of the sharp edges, certain not to touch any of the prongs. Something soft and light wells up in his chest, as he gazes at it.

"I think I might… not hate you"

Beaks looks surprised, for a second. It's an odd look on him, nothing like the nonchalance he usually wears, so open it looks darn near alien. 

"Yeah? That's great, dude" Beaks exclaims.

"I might… go as far as to say I like you" Gyro adds, grudgingly.

"I definitely like you" He puts his phone down, leaning so far across the table his forearms are almost parallel to the workbench's surface. Beaks considers- not nearly long enough, obviously, since he comes out of that waggling his eyebrows at Gyro like an unruly teenager, silly smile tugging across his face.

Gyro struggles not to gag.

"Wanna kiss, bro?" He offers, as if it's a forgone conclusion, "There's a closet connected to the lab-"

"Don't-" Gyro swallows, shifts in annoyance, "don't ruin the moment"

"Imma kiss you anyway. Just… not in the closet? We don't have to go to the closet. We can do it right here, ya know-"

Seriously?

Gyro huffs in pure annoyance, and presses a kiss to the side of Mark's beak just to get him to shut up.

It works, at least.


End file.
